The Red Gloves Collection

  Dustin watched television as Gideon received constant treatment. Nobody said much. Every time Brian looked at Tish she was wiping her eyes, filled with the terror that Gideon was slipping away from them.

  And she was. The doctors had told them so earlier that morning. Her blood levels were not responding to the chemotherapy like they’d hoped. A transplant was critically necessary.

  When Brian wasn’t leaning over Gideon, holding her hand or stroking her thin arm, he dreamed of ways he might get the money. Bizarre, oudandish ways. Like selling his organs or spending a season on a crabbing boat in the icy seas of Alaska. He’d heard on television once that a crew member could earn twenty-five thousand dollars in eleven weeks.

  He wondered if he’d have time to work a season and return with the money before Gideon died. He wondered if anyone might be interested in purchasing his lung or a kidney.

  He wondered if he was losing his mind.

  The only good news of the day came just after two o’clock. One of Gideon’s doctors entered the room and approached her bedside. “I have a surprise for you.”

  Gideon raised her eyes. She looked so frail, her body wasting away before their eyes. “I’m getting better?”

  A flicker of sadness crossed the doctor’s face. “We’re working on that part.” He smiled first at Tish, then Brian. “We’ve reviewed her chart and decided she can go home this afternoon.” He looked down at Gideon again and patted her hand. “You get to be with your family for Christmas, Miss Gideon.”

  Tish took a step closer to the doctor. “Does she have to come back?”

  “Yes.” The doctor shot her a sympathetic look. “First thing on the twenty-sixth. A few days away won’t hurt. We’ll have a nurse stop by twice a day with her medication. But after that she needs to be back here.”

  When the doctor was gone, there was silence. Then Dustin flicked off the television and popped up from his chair. “Why’s everyone so sad?” He looked around the room at each of them. “At least we’ll be together for Christmas.”

  Brian forced a smile, though he was certain it didn’t reach his eyes. “Dustin’s right. If we have this time, let’s make the most of it. In fact”—he met Gideon’s eyes and winked—“let’s stop for ice cream on the way home.”

  An hour later they were making their way along the hallway toward their apartment when Brian stopped a few feet from the front door. Gideon was in his arms, Tish and Dustin in front of him, but even then he could see something wasn’t right.

  The door was open half an inch.

  “Wait.” He set Gideon down and moved past his family. He had locked the door that morning; he was sure of it. So why was it open? Had someone broken in and torn the place up? On the day before Christmas?

  Brian looked back at Tish and motioned for her to keep the kids. Then he pushed the door open and slammed on the light, ready for the worst.

  What he saw took his breath away. His mouth fell open as his eyes circled the living room and kitchen. How in the world … Who had done this? And how had they gotten in?

  From behind him, Tish sounded impatient. “What is it, Brian? Let us see.”

  He stepped back into the hallway, swept Gideon into his arms once more, and took three steps into the apartment. Tish and Dustin fell in beside him. For a moment they stood there in stunned silence.

  The place had been completely transformed.

  In the middle of the living room stood a towering Christmas tree laden with twinkling lights and dozens of colorful ornaments. Beneath the tree were wrapped presents piled so high they spilled over onto the matted gray carpeting. A brand-new toy fire truck was parked against one wall. Leaning against the other were four stockings stuffed with gifts and labeled with each of their names.

  “Daddy?” Gideon tightened her grip around his neck and stared at him. “How did you do this?”

  “I didn’t do anything, honey. Not a thing.”

  “But the tree is alive and it reaches to the ceiling just … just like the one in my perfect Christmas.”

  “Come on, Brian. You didn’t plan this?” Tish wandered about the room, her mouth open. “You must have. Where did all this stuff come from?”

  “Santa Claus brought it!” Dustin was still frozen in place. He looked like he was afraid to blink, lest the entire scene disappear like some sort of wonderful dream.

  Lined along the kitchen floor were bags of food, one after the other. Brian opened the refrigerator and found it full to overflowing. Milk and fruit and cheese and bread. And on the center shelf was a turkey twice the size of anything Tish had ever cooked.

  “Hey!” Gideon shifted in his arms, and pointed to the kitchen counter. “What’s that?”

  All of them gathered round and stared at the thing Gideon was pointing at. It was a golden bag, three feet high with tissue paper bursting from the opening at the top. Scrawled across the front of the bag was this message:

  For Gideon. Open this first.

  “It’s for me?” Gideon’s voice sounded stronger than it had in days.

  “That’s what it says.” Brian eased Gideon from his arms so she could stand against the counter. “Go ahead, honey. Open it.”

  Gideon looked first at Brian, then at Tish. “Really?”

  “Yes, honey. It has your name on it.”

  With gentle fingers, Gideon took hold of the bag and lay it sideways. Then she pulled out the tissue, one piece at a time until she could just make out the top of a box. “It can’t be … ”

  “What is it? What is it?” Dustin jumped up and down, barely able to contain himself.

  “Just a minute, son.” Brian tried to peer into the bag, equally anxious to see what was inside. “Give her a chance to open it.”

  Carefully Gideon pulled the box out, gasping at what was inside. “She-she’s perfect. Just like the one in the catalog.”

  Brian felt his stomach drop. It was a brand-new doll, the kind with shiny hair and eyes that opened and shut, and a beautiful dress with tiny lace trim. It was the exact doll Gideon had always wanted. Brian stared at Tish and shook his head. She did the same, tears in her eyes.

  There was nothing he could say. God, where did this come from? It wasn’t possible. No one knew about Gideon’s perfect Christmas except the people in her immediate family.

  Gideon opened the cardboard and pulled the doll out. There in the doll’s hands was an envelope. Gideon wrinkled her nose and stared at it. “What’s this, Daddy?”

  Brian took the envelope, his hands shaking. Maybe the person had signed the card. Maybe they would finally know where this amazing abundance had come from. He slid his finger beneath the flap and pulled out a folded piece of paper. As he did, something fell onto the counter.

  “Brian, look at that.” Tish sounded almost frightened.

  “What is it? Someone tell me?” Dustin tugged at Brian’s sleeve.

  “Wait, son.” He lifted the smaller piece of paper from the counter. It was an official cashier’s check from a bank in Redding, California, made out to Gideon. Brian’s eyes darted over to the amount and his heart stopped.

  It was for fifty thousand dollars.

  Fifty thousand dollars! God, what have you done? How did you do this? Fifty thousand dollars? Brian blinked, but the number remained the same. It was more money than he could make in two years. Three even. His entire body shook and he had to remind himself to breathe. His heartbeat raced like it might tear through his chest. “Tish? Do you see this?”

  He looked at her. She nodded, but she was weeping too hard to speak. Her arms clutched Gideon and Dustin.

  “Is it money, Daddy?” Gideon stared at the check, her innocent eyes not understanding the zeroes.

  “Yes, honey.” There was nothing Brian could do to stop the tears. They filled his eyes and spilled onto his cheeks. “Enough money for your transplant.”

  “Really?” Gideon’s eyes were brighter than before. “You mean I can get better now?”

  “Yes, honey.” Brian’s voice
cracked and he circled his arms around the others, too shaken to speak.

  They stayed that way a long time, until Dustin poked his head up near Brian’s side. “Is it a lot of money, Daddy?”

  “Yes, son, it is.” Brian wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his shirt and stared at Tish. How was it possible? Who could have done this? The unanswered questions in his own heart were mirrored in her expression.

  “Can we open our stockings?” Dustin’s eyes were wide and he took three quick steps toward them. “Please, can we?”

  Tish nodded. “Go ahead. You can both open them.”

  Dustin raced into the living room. Gideon followed more slowly. Her color looked better than it had all day. She cradled her new doll in her arms and settled into the chair closest to the tree. “Go ahead, Dustin. Me and my dolly need a rest.”

  When the kids were out of earshot, Brian set the check carefully on the counter and took Tish in his arms. “It’s a miracle,” Brian whispered against the side of her face. “She’s going to be okay, honey. I can feel it.”

  Tish was trembling, her body still jerking every few seconds from the sobs that racked her body. “But where did it come from, Brian? Money like that doesn’t just show up.”

  “Right now I don’t know, and I really don’t care.” Brian stepped back and stared at the check once more. “It’s here. And because of that Gideon’s going to get better.”

  “Wait.” Tish searched the counter. “Wasn’t there a note in the envelope?”

  “There was.” Brian reached inside the doll box and picked up the folded piece of paper. He opened it and as he read the message, chills flashed up and down the length of his spine.

  Dear Gideon, Christmas miracles happen to those who believe.

  It was the same sentiment Gideon had shared with him that day at the doctor’s office. Other than those words, the page was blank. There was no name, no signature. The gifts, the tree, the money—all of it was from someone who remained completely anonymous.

  “Hey, Gideon.”

  She looked up from her doll. “Yes, Daddy.”

  “There was something written in there with the money.” Brian’s eyes welled up, and he blinked so he could see. “’Dear Gideon, Christmas miracles happen to those who believe.’ Does that mean anything to you?”

  Across the room Gideon gasped. “It’s from Earl! Earl at the mission!”

  Earl? The old man who had been so cruel to Gideon? Brian and Tish exchanged a knowing look. There was no way Earl was behind the gifts that surrounded them. He was a street person, after all. And a mean one at that. Brian cleared his throat. “Uh, Gideon, I don’t think so.”

  She sat up straighter in her chair, her doll clutched to her chest. “But it is, Daddy. That’s what I wrote on his Christmas picture. And he’s the only one besides you and Mommy who knew about my perfect Christmas.” Her eyes got dreamy. “That means he opened my gift. And this is his way of telling me thank you!”

  “Hmm,” Brian answered noncommittally. He shrugged in Tish’s direction. The doctors had asked them to keep Gideon as calm as possible, and this discussion was only exciting her.

  “Really, Daddy.” Her expression was nearly frantic. “I know it’s from Earl.”

  “Okay, sweetheart.” Tish moved to her side and felt her head. In the corner of the room, Dustin played with his fire truck, surrounded by a dozen new toys. Tish looked at him for a moment then back at Gideon. “Don’t get worked up.”

  “God did it, Mommy. He really did it!” Gideon settled back into the chair. “This is exactly what I prayed for.”

  “Yes, honey.” Tish smiled, her eyes red and swollen.

  Brian joined them, placing his arm around Tish as they studied their daughter. “A tree. A doll. Presents. It’s the perfect Christmas.”

  “No.” Gideon looked up, and Brian was struck by the wisdom in his daughter’s eyes. A wisdom that went years beyond her age. “That’s not what I prayed for.”

  Suddenly Brian knew what was coming. After all, he had been there with Gideon that afternoon in the doctor’s waiting room when she’d prayed.

  “Well? What did you pray for?” Tish sniffed, her cheeks still wet.

  “Daddy knows.” Gideon shot a glance at Brian. “Right?”

  “Right.” He loved the sparkle in Gideon’s eyes. It was still hard to believe she might live. That God had used the generosity of someone they didn’t know to bring them a gift they could never repay.

  “Okay, guys.” There was life in Tish’s eyes again, too. “I’m the only one in the dark here.”

  “Well.” Gideon drew a slow breath. “I prayed God would do something really amazing. Not like a dolly or a fire truck or money. I prayed he would make Earl believe again.” Her smile took up most of her face. “And that’s just what happened.”

  “Something big like that, huh?” Tish looked at Brian and shook her head, clearly struck by Gideon’s tender heart.

  “Yes, Mommy.” Gideon hugged her doll. “Something so big it could only be a Christmas miracle.”

  Earl caught a late flight that afternoon and by five o’clock a taxi was dropping him off in front of the old house. There were several cars parked in the driveway.

  For a moment he stood there and stared at it—the place where he’d grown up, the yard where he and Anne had once sat and talked and fallen in love. Not once during his time on the streets of Portland had he ever thought he’d be here again.

  But here he was. And all because of one special little girl.

  Okay, God. Give me the words.

  He’d checked the mirror in the airport and knew he looked presentable. In fact, he barely recognized himself. That was just as well. It would have killed his parents to see the way he’d looked a few days ago. This new look—clean clothes, neatly shaven—was much better for a reunion.

  Not that he knew whether they were home or not.

  There’d been no time to call. The idea was too last minute. He had no idea what he’d find, no way of knowing whether his parents would even want to see him after so many years. Or whether they were still alive. Shame kicked at him again. How wrong he’d been not to call, not to make some attempt at communicating with them before this.

  He stood a little straighter. Either way, he was a fifty-one-year-old prodigal son, and it was Christmas Eve. Whatever had happened to his parents in the past years, there was no better time to find out.

  He strode up the walkway to the front door. Then, without waiting another moment, he knocked.

  Nearly five seconds passed. Suddenly the door opened and his mother appeared. Christmas music filled the house, and the voices of people laughing and talking rang in the background. His mother stared at him strangely. “Can I help—”

  “Mom.” Earl saw the flash of recognition in her eyes. She hadn’t known it was him at first, but now … now she knew. “Mom, I’m home.”

  “Earl?” Her voice was broken and weak—almost childlike. He stepped into the house and took her in his arms. She was shaking, and for a moment Earl thought she might pass out. “Thank God. Oh, thank God. I knew you’d come home at Christmastime.”

  All he could do was hold her.

  After a moment of silence, she leaned back and framed his face in her hands. Then, with a smile, she linked arms with him and headed into the living room.

  At one end sat his father. He looked older, more frail than the last time Earl had seen him. Seated around the room were Earl’s brother and sister, their spouses, and kids. Conversations stopped and the room fell silent as Earl and his mother walked into view.

  His sister gasped and then covered her mouth.

  For a moment, no one spoke. Earl knew it was his move, his turn to apologize. But his throat was thick and he knew if he tried to talk he would break down and cry.

  Almost as though he could sense Earl’s discomfort, his father stood and moved slowly across the room. Their eyes met and held, then his father engulfed him in a desperate hug that erased the years. “
Welcome home, son.”

  “I’m—I’m so sorry, Dad.” Earl’s voice broke and he buried his face in his father’s shoulder.

  One by one the others rose and joined in the embrace. Earl stood utterly still, his tears splashing against his new shoes. What was this? How could they so quickly forgive him? And why would they still love him after all his years of silence?

  It was a moment that defined their love, a moment that told Earl everything he needed to know: He was going to be okay. No, he would not have Anne and Molly. Not for a long while. But he had the love of his family. And a faith in God that had never been there before.

  “Oh, Earl.” His mother clung to him even more tightly than before. “You’re really here!”

  Then, as briefly as he could, he told them about Gideon and her gift and how it had changed his mind about life and love. Even God’s love.

  His mother still looked at him as though he might disappear at any moment. Then she said, something Earl had never expected her to say. “How fitting—that God would use a child to make the miracle happen. Especially at Christmas.”

  Earl’s legs trembled. The love from his parents, his family, was almost more than he could take. He was so undeserving. What if he hadn’t opened the child’s gift? What if he’d tossed it in the trash can like he’d planned? Neither of them would have found life—neither him nor her.

  With a shudder, he shook his head and cast a pleading look at his father. “We’ve lost so much time.”

  “Yes,” his father wrapped his arm around him once more. “But think how much time we have left.”

  POSTSCRIPT

  The wedding was over and Earl slipped into the foyer. He needed to find Gideon, needed to give her something.

  How good God had been to them over the years. Gideon had figured out that their Christmas surprises were from him, and he had flown back to Portland and spent rime with the Mercer family. He’d stayed in touch throughout Gideon’s transplant process. And when she came home two months later with a healthy report, Earl was the first one she called.

  She had become something of a granddaughter to him. Someone he loved as dearly as he’d loved his own girl.